This is the third of a four part series of interviews with female performance artists about creative process, feminism and how the two intertwine.

Interviewee’s C.

Virginia Frankovich (Creator of the Plastic Orgasm)

Victoria Abbott and Kayleigh Haworth (Ladies of the Plastic Orgasm)

This interview is specifically about the performance piece ‘The Plastic Orgasm’ performed by a cast of 21 woman in the Auckland fringe festival 2018, created and devised by Virgina Frankovich and Julia Croft.

PeterJenningsPhotography

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A workshop hosted by Performance Art Week Aotearoa in Auckland, over the weekend of 28th/29th April.

It was said;

 “A new sense of connection between my own body/self and artistic practice. A deeper connection to the other creatives in the workshop. A sense that all is right with the world if we listen and return to ourselves and the collective energy, that everything that needs to be said can be presented and spoken as it needs to be.”

 

 

 

No/i/se(lf): an inventory is the third in our CrossPollination series of creative response writings to performances during Performance Art Week Aotearoa. Henrietta Bollinger is a Wellington playwright and poet. She writes a regular column for Salient on disability issues “Token Cripple.” Here she responds to No/I/Self by Thomas Press and Virginia Frankovich as a part of PAWA.

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An inventory of things I collected at No/i/se(lf):

  1. earplugs –  the first gift.  they were needed to mute the willing roars of the earthling audience as they took up the the invitation of two aliens to let out all their deepest frustrations.
  2. silver pipe-cleaner –  quietly stowed away in my handbag, sure of what it was
    meant for, though I think it may have been intended as a pair of antennae.
  3. metallic green balloon – stowed away once more; blowing balloons being oddly,  at twenty-four, a skill i still lack. Several were blown up, burst or let loose to run of off air and drift pathetically to the ground.
  4. yellow balloon – (see above)
  5. A bell –  reserved for a particular moment of orchestral cacophony but
    clanged in my hands at a few unexpected moments, when something else made
    me jump or laugh. I eventually set it down with a dull clink on the floor content to
    watch my fellow audience members lose themselves to the permission the space
    offered.

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